


Coping

by soongtypeprincess



Series: Married Coppers [25]
Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Aftermath, Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Parents, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Angst, Family Drama, Family Therapy, Gen, Kidnapping, Married Life, Panic Attacks, Therapy, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-08-19 13:14:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16535261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soongtypeprincess/pseuds/soongtypeprincess
Summary: Every night, Sam and Ruthie relive the trauma they endured from their kidnapping four months ago. As a family, they seek help in different ways to teach them how to cope.





	1. Guilt

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Shot in the Dark](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15265272) by [Dana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dana/pseuds/Dana). 



> This multi-chapter work was inspired by Dana's "Shot in the Dark," which is still in the works, but I urge you all to read it, please! It is amazing like all of her Life on Mars work. 
> 
> I plan on adding a chapter about every two weeks.
> 
> I do not own the canon Life on Mars characters.

Gene listened as Sam sang to their daughter from her room. Tonight, it was Nat King Cole’s “Nature Boy,” a favorite of Ruthie’s.

When the song was finished, he closed his eyes as he heard Sam’s voice. “Night night, baby girl.”

“Night night, Daddy. Love you,” Ruthie’s voice replied in a sleepy tone.

Gene opened his eyes again when Sam slipped into bed and laid his head on his chest.

He stroked his hair. “I like when you sing that one,” he said. “One of me favorites in your repertoire.”

A huff came from Sam as he nodded, and then a tear fell from the tip of his nose and onto Gene’s chest.

Gene didn’t cease his caresses, and he took Sam’s hand, kissing it.

“What’s the matter, love?” Gene whispered.

Sam shook his head and sniffed. “I can’t stop thinking about it,” he said. “Night time is the worst. The room we were in would be so dark and she would get so scared.”

“Hush, now, Sammy,” Gene comforted him.

“She was so scared that she would cry out in the dark and sometimes I couldn’t see her. Couldn’t hold her. That was torture for me. My arms ached to hold her, but...I just couldn’t…” His breath hitched as he clutched Gene’s shoulder.

“Stop it,” Gene told him. “Everything is okay.”

“I’d like for it to be.”

Gene squeezed him to his side and kissed his forehead. He heard footsteps in the hallway and he turned to see Ruthie at their door.

“Papa?” she said, carrying Bertram by his front paw. “May I sleep with you and Daddy?”

“No, Mouse,” Gene replied. “You need to sleep in your bed tonight.”

“But, Papa,” she whimpered, her voice cracking. “I’m scared.”

“Why are you scared, baby?”

“It’s dark in my room. And my bed is cold.”

Gene knew the latter was not true as it was quite warm outside for this time of night. “If it’s okay with Daddy,” he told her.

Sam lifted his head and wiped his eyes. “Of course, sweetheart,” he muttered. “Come on up.”

She climbed over the end of the mattress and crawled to the spot between them. “But tomorrow night, you _need_ to stay in your bed.”

“Okay, Daddy.”

“That’s my girl,” Sam praised her as she curled under the sheets. He kissed her temple. “Night night.”

“Night night, Daddy,” she said, hugging Bertram to her tummy, as she turned to Gene. “I promise I’ll sleep in my bed tomorrow, Papa. Honest.”

Gene grinned and kissed her cheek. “Night night, baby,” he whispered.

\---------------

The following afternoon, Sam and Ruthie were leaving the grocers. He was carrying a paper sack full of ingredients for their tea while Ruthie held his free hand. They were on their way to the newsagents’ to get a paper as well as Juicy Fruit gum for Gene.

Gene promised them that he would quit smoking and so took up gum chewing at work. Sam knew he was trying his best to quit ever since Ruthie was born, but knew it would be hard. However, Sam discovered that Gene now had a new habit of smacking and popping his gum, but he accepted that beggars can’t be choosers.

Ruthie began to hop on one foot as they walked. “Daddy, look,” she said, “I can hop better on me right leg than me left now.”

Sam smiled. “That’s a good skill to have.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yes, love. It’s good practice for balancing.”

“Can you hop on your right leg, Daddy?”

“Not very well anymore, I’m afraid. I’ve got that--well, you know, where I was shot.”

“Oh, yeah,” Ruthie said, ceasing her hopping.

Sam glanced at her, seeing that her mood changed. He still had a bit of a limp after the last surgery to recover the bullet fragments from his right leg, the same leg that had received a bullet just four years prior. That leg would never be the same again, but he truly felt himself lucky to even be walking around at all.

He still jogged occasionally, but also took up cycling, which he rather enjoyed. It was another hobby that he shared with his daughter, apart from footie. They would cycle all through Manchester and sometimes picnic by the canal.

Yes, Sam had indeed been quite lucky.

He cleared his throat. “Are you going to help make the cottage pie tonight?”

“Yes, please,” Ruthie replied, smiling again. “I want to squash the potatoes! That’s the fun part.”

Sam smiled. “And I’ll cut up and boil the veg.”

“Does there have to be veg?” 

“Cottage pie always has veg, young lady. You said you would eat some if we made it.”

“What kind of veg?”

“Oh, the usual: carrots, peas, bits of broccoli--”

“Eww, Daddy, please! No broccolis!”

Sam laughed. “You promised, Miss Ruth Anne.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know broccolis were going to be in the pie, too!”

“Tell you what: if you eat five peas and five broccolis, then you can pick out the rest of them.”

“ _Five broccolis_??”

“I’ll chop them up small.”

Ruthie groaned. “Okay. Can I give the rest of my peas to Papa? He loves peas!”

“That he does, and yes, you may. So, what’s for pudding?”

“Papa said he was getting more gummy bears.”

“Aren’t you sick of gummy bears? You eat them every night.”

“I love gummy bears!” She suddenly stopped and pointed ahead of them. “Daddy, look over there!”

Sam looked to the far corner of a building and saw a woman with a box of kittens.

“Can we please go look at them?” Ruthie asked him. “Just for a bit?”

“Sure, why not?” Sam said.

They stopped to pet them and the woman allowed Ruthie to hold one.

“Free to a good home, dear,” the old woman told Sam.

Sam grinned. “That so?”

Ruthie gasped as she held the little kitten that was purring in her hands. “Daddy, can I please get a kitty? I’ll take good care of it; I promise.”

“I’m sure you would, baby,” Sam told her, “but we need to consult with Papa first.”

“What’s ‘consult’ mean?”

“We have to ask him if it’s alright.”

Ruthie gave him a confident smile. “I know Papa will say yes, Daddy.”

“I’m sure he will, sweetpea, but we still need to ask him.”

Gene arrived home that evening and found them in the kitchen, Ruthie fervently smashing the boiled potatoes with the masher while Sam was draining the boiled vegetables.

She stood on the footstool Sam bought for her two years prior. He decided that since he couldn’t keep her out of the kitchen while he cooked, he may as well get her a stool so that she could help him.

“Hi, Papa!” she greeted him as he kissed the top of her head. She saw the paper sack in his hand. “Did you bring the gummy bears?”

He smiled and replied, “Thought we’d go for something different, Mouse, if that’s alright.” He reached into the bag and pulled out a carton of Neapolitan ice cream.

“Ice cream!!” she exclaimed as she bounced on her stool. “Thank you, Papa!”

“Baby, be careful. Don’t jump,” Sam cautioned her as he set down the pot of vegetables. He looked at Gene. “Promise not to eat all the chocolate side before we have a chance, yeah?”

“No promises, Mr. Hunt,” he said before giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

During their tea, and after having given Gene the rest of her peas after eating her allotted five, Ruthie cleared her throat and said, “Papa, guess what.”

“What?” Gene asked, before taking a sip of his red wine.

“We saw kittens at the shoppes today!”

“Oh yeah? Did you get to pet one?”

“I _held_ one, a little grey one and he was so cute, Papa. He was just precious.”

Gene smiled at her. “Was someone giving them away?”

Ruthie gasped and gave Sam an excited look.

He nodded and said, “They were, actually, and, well, we thought about getting one.”

Gene stopped chewing and raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Yeah, not from the woman at the shoppes, but a shelter,” Sam continued. “I told Ruthie that we needed to speak to you about it first, of course, but I think a cat would be great here.”

Gene sighed and put down his fork. He looked at Ruthie who was gazing at him with blue eyes full of hope.

He looked at Sam again and quickly replied, “We can’t have a cat right now.”

Sam huffed. “What are you on about? Of course we can! We’ve got plenty of space, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Ruthie’s too young for a pet,” Gene countered.

“Oh, you _must_ be joking. She’s nearly eight!”

Gene glared at Sam. He didn’t need this right now. Sundays were meant to be his days off, but the Super called him into the station. There were reports of drug deals near the river and after a day of unsuccessful leads, Gene was bitter and tired.

“But, I’m _not_ too young, Papa,” Ruthie challenged. “I promise to take good care of it. I’ll feed it every day and I’ll play with it and clean up after it and _everything_!”

“And who’s going to take care of it when you’re at school, eh?” Gene asked her. “It wouldn’t be fair to a kitten, leaving it alone all day.”

“Not really, Guv,” Sam said. “Cats are naturally self-reliable. I was half Ruthie’s age when I had a cat and he stayed home alone all the time.”

Ruthie smiled. “You had a kitty, Daddy?”

Sam returned her smile. “I sure did, love. His name was Ivanhoe and he was orange with a white chest and he was a great cat.”

“I’ll bet your mum was the one to take care of it, wasn’t she?” Gene asked.

Sam shrugged. “She helped a bit, but I knew how to clean his litter box and I could perfectly scoop and measure his food twice a day. He even slept in my bed and woke me up in time for school.”

Gene gave him a incredulous look, but Ruthie was even more excited. “See, Papa?” she said. “Daddy had a cat when he was little and he took care of it and I can do the same! I promise! Please?”

Gene sighed. “I said no.”

“But, why?”

“Surely you had a pet when you were young, Guv,” Sam said.

“Sam, please.”

“Papa, why do you think I’m too young?” Ruthie asked him.

“That’s enough,” Gene demanded.

“It can sleep in my room. You won’t have to help me, I promise! I’m old enough, Papa!”

“Finish your tea, Ruthie.”

“You’re not _listening_!” she screamed as she slammed a fist onto the table, knocking her fork against her plate.

Sam and Gene stared at her in surprise.

She had tantrums as a toddler, usually over minor things like bedtime, but she never before shouted directly at them, nor had she ever hit anything while doing so. However, Sam and Gene were arguing more often after the incident, and Sam had no doubt that she was picking up on their energy.

Sam put down his fork. “Ruth Anne, that is not--”

“Don’t you _ever_ ,” Gene interrupted him, scolding Ruthie in a low growl, “talk to me like that again, do you understand?”

“You talk to Daddy like that,” she retorted, crossing her arms and holding back tears.

Sam’s chest suddenly felt heavy. He was right; their fighting was affecting her. He started to say something, but Gene, once again, intervened.

“We are adults. You are a child, and you will _not_ disrespect us by shouting or banging on the table. You know better!”

She sniffed and glared back at him, her frown growing deeper. “Why don’t you trust me?!” she yelled, her voice cracking.

“You’d better lower the volume right now, little girl,” Gene warned.

“Gene, stop it,” Sam told him.

“When I tell you no, then the answer is no,” Gene continued to scold Ruthie, completely ignoring his husband. “You have to learn that not everything will be handed to you, especially if you act like a bloody brat!”

“That’s enough!” Sam exclaimed.

“I’m not a brat!” Ruthie shouted, her face turning red. She paused as tears finally ran down her cheeks. She wiped her eyes. “You just want me to be sad! Why?!”

“Ruthie,” Sam said, “calm down, baby.”

Gene took a big gulp of his wine, looking away from his daughter’s tears. He pursed his lips and sighed again.

Sam noticed him and shook his head, dumbfounded. “Your daughter is trying to talk to you,” he told him. “And instead of listening, you ignore her and shout at her? She doesn’t deserve this.”

“Sam,” Gene muttered.

“I don’t care what kind of stress you have right now or how tired you are,” Sam continued, “your child wants to--”

“I know what she wants to do,” Gene replied. “She wants to defy me, all because I told her she couldn’t have a bloody cat.”

Ruthie sniffed, and she pushed her plate away from her and crossed her arms again.

“On a hunger strike now, are we?” he asked her.

Sam’s ears burned as he glared at his husband.

“Finish your plate,” Gene ordered.

“No!” Ruthie replied.

“Right now, Ruth Anne.”

She ignored him and twisted around in her chair to face away from him. Gene grasped the chair with one hand and turned it so Ruthie could face the table again.

However, she turned away from her plate and put her back to the both of them.

“Ruthie,” Sam sighed. “Turn around, please.”

She shook her head, her blonde pigtails bouncing.

Gene wasn't as patient. “When you’re quite finished, Miss Ghandi!”

“Gene, shut it!” Sam hissed.

Ruthie hopped out of her chair and bolted for the stairs, but Gene caught her with one arm and picked her up.

Ruthie started to kick her legs. “No!” she screamed.

Sam’s heart beat hard in his chest and he stood from his chair. “Put her down!”

“Oh, I am!” he replied. He moved her chair to where it was facing the table once more and set her down in it, but she immediately jumped up again. Gene caught her once more, saying, “You will sit here _properly_ and wait till you're excused.”

Sam suddenly lost his appetite. “She _is_ excused,” he stated. “Ruthie, go to your room.”

“Don’t move a muscle, girl!”

“Go to your room so Papa and I can have a discussion.”

“We can have one right now, Tyler!”

Ruthie jumped up again, running away from the table and rushing up the stairs.

Gene stood and shouted, “Get your arse back here!”

“Gene!”

“Ruth Anne, don’t you dare ignore me!”

“I hate you!” she screamed back at him.

Gene’s heart skipped. “Ruthie!” he shouted as she slammed her bedroom door.

Gene turned to the dinner table again and saw that Sam had his face in his hands. He cleared his throat as he sat down. “Good Lord,” he said, “I didn’t think I’d hear a slammed door in this house until she was a teenager.”

He glanced at Sam when he didn’t respond. “Sammy?” He reached over and touched his arm, making him twitch. “Jesus, Sam, will you stop with the flinching? What’s your problem?”

Sam dropped his hands from his face and glowered at him. “ _You_!” he shouted “It’s you, Gene! What _was_ all of that? Raising your voice to her, swearing at her, throwing her chair around!”

“I didn’t _throw_ anything!”

“You’re being a bully!”

“I will _not_ have our seven year-old challenge my authority in me own house!”

“Good on her for doing so because she was trying to talk to you!”

“My word is law here!”

“First of all,” Sam said, springing up from his chair and leaning into his husband, “you are _not_ the only parent here! Secondly, you can take your ‘word is law’ bullshit and shove it up your arse!”

Sam pushed his chair back to the table, making it groan against the tile floor. Gene sat quietly and watched him clear the table of his and Ruthie’s plates. He poked at his cottage pie, stirring it around with his fork as he bit his lip, but he decided that his appetite was gone, as well, and stood as he picked up his plate.

He set it beside the sink. “Sam...”

“Don’t speak to me,” he replied, not looking at him as he filled the sink with hot, soapy water.

Gene rolled his eyes. “Look, I’m sorry.”

“And don’t apologize to me. Go apologize to the little girl upstairs whose heart you just broke.”

“That’s harsh, Tyler.”

“Well, the truth hurts, doesn’t it?” Sam turned off the hot tap and wet a sponge to scrub a plate.

Gene frowned and stomped out of the kitchen. He went to the coat rack at the front door and produced a cigarette and lighter from the pocket of his camel coat before going outside onto the stoop.

There was neither a bedtime story nor a song that night.

Later, however, Gene heard Ruthie crying out, and he jumped out of bed, pulling on his dressing gown.

He entered her bedroom and found her stretching her arms above her, as if reaching for something.

“Stop it! Don’t hurt him!” she shouted. “You said you’d be nice to him! Stop hitting him! Please! Daddy, wake up!!”

Gene quickly lifted her out of her bed and brought her to his chest, patting her back.

“Shhh, baby, it’s alright,” he said, “wake up, Ruthie!”

She opened her eyes. “Papa?” she whimpered.

“Yeah, Mouse. It’s me.”

“Where’s Daddy? Is he okay?” She looked around her room.

“He’s asleep, baby girl,” he assured her. “Shhh, calm down, now. He’s alright.” He swayed his body, rocking her as her tears subsided. “Do you want milk and a biscuit?” he asked “We’re out of Garibaldi’s, but I think there’s Penguins.”

She shook her head and wiped her eyes. “Papa?”

“Yes, my love?”

“I don’t hate you.”

Gene grinned. “You don’t? Well, do you like me then?” Ruthie nodded and he asked, “Do you _love_ me?”

"Yes, I love you, Papa.”

He giggled. “I love you, too, baby.”

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” she said. She sniffed and wiped her cheek. “And I didn’t mean to get angry.”

“It’s okay, Mouse. I didn’t mean it, either. I’m sorry I shouted and said swears at you."

“It’s okay, Papa. I forgive you.”

She gripped the collar of his dressing gown and kissed his cheek. Gene smiled and pressed his forehead to hers. “Thank you, baby,” he whispered.

“I dreamed about Daddy in the dark place again,” she said.

“It was just a dream, love. Put it out of your mind.”

“I can’t,” she whined. “It’s hard. They hit him all the time. It was my fault that they hit him because--”

“That’s enough, Ruthie,” he told her in a low voice. “Nothing was your fault, do you understand?”

They heard a moan in the master bedroom and the shuffling of feet on the mattress.

“I think Daddy’s dreaming, too,” Ruthie said.

“Yes, he is.” He set her back on the bed. “Stay here.”

Ruthie picked up Bertram, who had been tossed onto the floor during her nightmare, and clutched him to her chest.

Sam was sitting up with his eyes closed and was pushing himself against the headboard. He wore a grimace, as if someone was putting an object close to his face, and he was breathing hard as he clutched the sheets.

“Please,” he moaned. “Not in front of her...”

“Sammy,” Gene knelt on the edge of the bed and put a hand on his shoulder.

Sam gasped and jumped back into the headboard, bumping his head.

“Sam! Wake up!”

“Daddy!” came Ruthie’s voice. Gene looked behind him and saw that she was standing at the foot of the bed.

“Ruthie, go back to your room,” Gene ordered.

“Ruthie?” Sam sighed. “Turn away, baby, don’t look. Just do it!” He began to pant and Gene gently put his hands on his shoulders. Sam cried out once more.

“Sammy!” he said, louder this time. “Wake up, for God’s sake!”

He put his hand to Sam’s cheek and lightly pat it. “Love, it’s okay,” Gene told him as Sam’s tears wet his fingers. “Sammy…”

Sam stopped moving and his eyes fluttered open. “Guv?” he whispered. “Gene.”

“It’s alright, love,” he told him. “It was a dream again; you’re home.”

Sam looked around the bedroom with wide eyes. “Where’s Ruthie?”

“Here I am, Daddy,” she said as she climbed onto the bed. “It’s okay. We’re safe.”

Sam shuddered a heavy sigh and crawled into Gene’s arms, wailing as his tears flowed down his face. Gene stroked his back and closed his eyes as Sam’s body trembled.

“Gene,” Sam cried. “Why? Why can’t I stop this?”

“It’s just a dream, Sam,” Gene replied, pressing his lips to Sam’s temple. “Just a dream.”

Sam shook his head and pulled away. “No!” he shouted. “It was real! You weren’t there! You don’t understand! They were going to kill me! In front of her! It was going to happen, Gene!” He put his face in his hands and moaned. “Oh, dear God!”

Gene felt a lump in his throat as he brought him to his chest again.

Ruthie carefully approached them, and patted Sam’s leg. When he lifted his head, she offered Bertram to him.

Sam looked at the stuffed lion in his white night shirt, and grinned as he took him. He set Bertram on his lap and pet his mane.

“I want Ruthie to sleep in here,” he said in a tired voice.

Gene glanced at their daughter. “Do you want to sleep with us again tonight, Mouse?” he asked her.

She nodded and whispered to Gene. “Is Daddy okay?”

Sam gave her a sad smile as he wiped his eyes. “I’ll be fine, baby girl,” he told her. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Daddy…” She hugged his waist and Sam kissed the top of her head.

Gene watched them and had a flash in his mind of the dark place Ruthie always dreamed about and that Sam was now afraid of, afraid that somewhere in the dark, Ruthie was watching him about to die.

“Let’s go back to sleep,” he told them.

“Gene,” Sam said. “I’m so sorry.”

“Sammy, please don’t apologize,” he said.

Sam and Ruthie were soon sound asleep, but Gene was clutching his pillow, his eyes burning with tears that he would not let fall.

\------

Two nights later, Sam sat on the settee, barely paying attention to _Emmerdale Farm_.

He heard Gene’s footsteps coming down the stairs and grinned as he rounded the banister.

Gene picked up the throw pillow on the other end of the settee and tossed it into Sam’s lap. Without a word, he laid his body across the cushions, placing his head on the pillow.

Sam watched as he situated himself onto his stomach and placed a hand on Sam’s thigh.

“Tired, love?” Sam asked with a soft giggle.

“Mm,” Gene responded, his eyes closed.

“That’ll be a yes, then.”

“I’m not hurting your leg, am I?”

Sam ran his fingers through Gene’s hair. “Nah, Guv. It’s alright.”

Gene grunted and patted Sam’s knee. “Good. Keep doing what you’re doing, then.”

Sam smiled as he continued to stroke his blonde locks. “What was the story tonight?”

Gene groaned. “ _The Cat in the_ bleedin’ _Hat_.” Sam couldn’t help but giggle again, but Gene wasn’t amused. “She won’t shut up about cats.”

“Because you keep telling her she’s too young,” Sam told him. “And she happens to disagree, and she’s only going to keep bringing it up until you listen to her.”

“It’s just a bloody cat. What is her obsession with this?”

“If you took the time to talk to her, you would know,” Sam said. “I think that you _do_ believe she’s old enough, but you want to keep this macho, man-of-the-house, king of the jungle image about you so you deny her at every turn.”

Gene huffed. “That’s bollocks, Tyler.” He felt Sam cease his stroking. “Why’d you stop?”

“Because you piss me off.”

“Dammit, Sam, not tonight,” Gene growled.

“I think taking care of a kitten could...you know, help her cope.”

“She’s _fine_.”

Sam’s eyes began to burn and he bit his lip, but he couldn’t stop the words. “I swear, Guv, you are absolutely, bloody impossible!” Sam hissed, moving off the settee and walking into the kitchen.

Gene sat up and sighed as he rubbed his cheeks. “Sam,” he called in a soft voice as he followed him.

He found him standing over the sink and staring into it. The dishes were washed and sitting in the dish rack to dry, but Sam picked up a plate and a towel and proceeded to dry it, anything to keep his mind off the angry tears in his eyes.

When he sensed that Gene was close behind him, he put the plate into the dish rack and his breath hitched as the tears fell.

“Sammy, stop now. What is this?” He put his hand on his arm, but Sam shrugged away from him. “Bloody hell, Tyler! Are we going do this every fucking night? Over a cat?”

“It’s not just about the cat, Gene!” Sam said, turning to him. “It’s about how deep in denial you are about what’s happening to your daughter!”

“And what would that be, Sam?” Gene’s voice was growing louder. “She’s got to learn that there are things she can’t have!”

“It’s not about that, though, _is it_? You’ve got to be seeing it, too, Guv! Her nightmares, her lack of interest in school and in playing. And how about the other night, when she banged the dinner table?”

Gene grimaced. He was still feeling quite wretched about his actions that night.

“You know,” Sam continued, “she only recently started going to the park again without having a panic attack!”

“She does _not_ have panic attacks!” Gene bellowed, stepping closer.

“You’re not there!” Sam shouted in his face. “She can’t catch her breath, she starts trembling, and every time she sees a van, she screams!”

“That’s enough!” Gene turned away, balling his hands into fists.

“Why do you shrug it off, eh? Do you know how much that hurts?” He paused to take a breath and wiped one of his eyes. “You _can’t_ be this blind, Gene! She’s trying to tell you what would make her happy. What would make her feel better! And she bloody well knows that you’re bullshitting about her being too young!”

Gene turned back to him and leaned against one of the dinner table chairs.

“Look me in the eye, Guv,” Sam demanded. “Look at me and tell me that you genuinely think she’s fine. That we’re both just _bloody_ fine!”

Gene lowered his head. “It’s something I thought I could control.”

Sam stared at him. “What?”

Gene raised his eyes to him. “You pull away every time I touch you. Like, when I try to caress your back in bed…it kills me, Sam, and I think on all the times that I used to…” He stopped and looked down again, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Guv, that was years ago and we were both proud, stubborn twats,” Sam said. “I don’t flinch because I think you’ll hit me, it’s that--”

“I _know_ why you flinch, Sam. And when you do, I think on how much torture you went through. I think about seeing your broken body in that hospital bed. I had thoughts that you wouldn’t make it. Internal bleeding, gunshot wound, broken ribs…”

Sam stepped closer to him and took his hand.

“And then,” Gene continued, running his thumb over Sam’s knuckles, “Ruthie’s behaviour, her nightmares. If I could stand in the way of her and those dreams, I bloody would. I don’t mean to act like a bully. I don’t know what came over me that night. It’s hard to explain, but...this cat business...I felt I could control it, but I’m making it worse.”

“Love, no, you’re--”

“No, don’t, Sammy. It’s true.”

Sam sighed and wiped his wet cheeks with his other hand. “Gene, you’re not listening to her, and she sees that. That’s why she’s persistent with you. She doesn’t know how to express why a kitten is important to her right now because I think that she is trying to repress everything that happened.”

“So, what can I do, Sam?” Gene asked, putting a hand on Sam’s chest. He stroked his collarbone. “What do you _need_? I don’t know what to do. I just want us to act like a family again.”

“Then, listen to us. That’s all. I know it’s hard for you to hear what we went through, but we need to talk about it.”

“Why, Sammy?” he sighed.

“If we don’t, if we hold it in, our feelings and thoughts on what occurred will be pushed down deep until it festers, and it will be that one thing that this family does not connect with, it will drive us apart.”

“How do you know that?”

Sam shook his head. “I don’t. But it’s a chance I don’t want to take.” He looked down at their hands, saying, “Why are you against us getting help?”

“Well, I…” Gene began, but stopped and cleared his throat. “I’ve been thinking on it a bit more.”

“Really?” Sam whispered.

“I mean, Annie may have mentioned her opinion of it to me, but, yeah, I have thought on it. Maybe you’re right.” Gene sighed, pulling Sam close.

Sam wrapped his arms around his waist. “We need to help each other, Gene, but we can’t do it alone. Right now, we can barely speak to each other without shouting.”

Gene huffed as he smirked. “Hasn’t it always been that way?”

“Police work is different,” Sam pointed out, feeling Gene’s arm encircling him. “This is our child. There’s no shame in asking someone to help us. Contrary to what you may think, therapy isn’t for crazy people. Is that why you’re so against it?”

“My girl is not crazy."

“Of course not, but she’s traumatized. We all are.” He pulled out of Gene’s embrace and looked at him with tired eyes. “It’s okay that you don’t know how to help us.”

“How _can_ I? I couldn’t even protect you.”

Sam’s eyes filled with tears again and he put his face into Gene’s neck. “I couldn’t even keep an eye on her!”

“Sammy,” Gene squeezed him.

“I...turned...away for...barely two seconds,” Sam sobbed against him. “I did this.”

“Love, no, you didn’t.”

“Papa?”

They turned to the sleepy voice of Ruthie at the edge of the kitchen. She was in her blue nightgown and was holding Bertram at her side by one of his back paws.

“Are you fighting again?” she asked, her voice breaking.

Gene walked away from Sam and knelt in front of her. “We’re not now, Mouse,” he told her.

“Why is Daddy crying?”

Sam quickly composed himself and approached them. “I’m okay, sweetpea.”

She hugged Bertram. “You’re fighting because of me, aren’t you?”

“No, no, baby,” Gene said, hugging her. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he stroked her hair.

“It’s my fault you’re fighting,” she cried against his shoulder.

“Sweetheart, no!” Sam said.

Gene felt his heart breaking. “Come on, baby girl,” Gene said, standing up and taking her hand. “Let’s have a chat.”

He led her to the settee and sat down. Ruthie climbed into his lap and put her head on his shoulder again as Sam sat next to them.

“I’m so sorry I’ve been harsh with you lately,” he told her, caressing her hand with his thumb. “I have no excuse for it. I love you very much, and I know you’re still hurting from...well, what happened.”

Ruthie put Bertram in her lap and anxiously played with one of his pajama buttons.

“I was scared. More than I’ve ever been in my entire life, and I’ve been on this earth a while now.”

Sam grinned as Gene resumed. “I was afraid, and talking about what happened or even thinking about it...I’m not able to handle it and I can’t help but be cross and make others sad. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“A little,” Ruthie said, rubbing one of her eyes. “You get angry when you feel sad.”

Gene nodded. “A bit like that, yeah. But I want you to know that you are _not_ the reason I get cross. It’s what I’m _feeling_ when I think about what happened.”

“But I make you think about it, don’t I?” she asked.

“Yeah, baby,” he nodded, “and when I look at Daddy. Sometimes that’s all I can think of.” He rested his head lightly on Ruthie’s. “I’m so sorry, baby. I love you. And I love Daddy.”

“With all your heart?” Ruthie asked.

“Even more than that.”

Sam put his arm around him. A tear fell down his cheek and onto Gene’s shoulder as he kissed it.

“What about that lady?” Ruthie asked.

Gene lifted his head and looked down at her. “What lady, Mouse?”

“The day we came back,” she said, “there was a lady in your office and she said to talk to her.”

Sam put his chin on Gene’s shoulder and replied, “The therapist?”

“What’s she do?”

“She helps people when they’ve been through trauma. She helps them feel better because she listens to what happened to you.”

“Oh,” Ruthie said. “Would she talk to me?”

“I’m sure she would,” Gene said.

“To all three of us,” Sam added.

They sat in silence, holding one another, until Ruthie said, “I promise I won’t talk about the kitty anymore.”

Gene glanced at Sam, who smirked at him, his brown eyes shimmering.

Gene grinned and kissed Ruthie’s forehead. “Baby, can you tell me why you want a kitty?”

Ruthie straightened in his lap, a hopeful light returning to her eyes. “Well,” she said, “Daddy told me, after we left the shoppes that day, that there are kittens at shelters with no homes. That people abandoned them or they got lost. When Daddy said that, I felt very sad. Everyone should have a home, with someone who loves them, and I know we can do that.”

“So, you want to give an orphaned kitty a warm place to sleep and someone to play with?” Gene asked.

“Yes,” she replied.

“A kitten doesn’t stay small, you know?” Gene told her. “The kitten will grow up into an adult cat. Do you think you could still love it like you would a kitten?”

“Oh, yes, Papa! Of course,” she said. “Will you still love me when _I’m_ bigger?”

Gene laughed. “Of course I will, baby. No matter how big you get, you’ll always be my little Mouse.”

“And my cat will always be my kitten.” She wiped her cheek. “Are shelters dark places?”

Sam shrugged. “Not all of them,” he said. “But they can be loud and quite lonely.”

Ruthie squeezed Bertram. “I don’t like that either. I wish I could take all of the kittens out of shelters and give them a home.”

Gene felt a sudden burst of love and pride at his girl’s compassion. “Well, I don’t know about that, baby,” he smiled. “How about just _one_ kitten, though?”

“You mean it?” Ruthie asked.

“Yeah,” Gene said, “Let’s wait a week or so. How about after we begin talk with the therapist?”

She let Bertram fall from her lap and threw her arms around his neck, saying, “Oh, Papa, thank you!”

Sam smiled as he watched them embrace. He stood up and kissed the top of her head. “Let’s all go to bed,” he said, picking up Bertram. “I’ll call the therapist in the morning.”

“Okay, Daddy,” Ruthie replied, carefully sliding off Gene’s lap. She took Sam’s hand and let him lead her to the stairs. “Papa?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Will you read a story again, please?” she asked.

He chuckled as he stood. “ _The Cat in the Hat_?”

Ruthie shook her head. “Can we start _Charlotte’s Web_ again?”

“What, you want a pig, too?” he joked.

“Papa, no!” she giggled.


	2. Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Ruthie attend their first therapy session, while Gene finds what's been lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: allusions of animal death (just fyi)

Sam felt an arm loop around his waist. He nestled his back into his husband’s warm chest and sighed as he squeezed his hand.

Gene’s nose pressed against the nape of his neck. “Did I wake you?” he whispered.

“Mm,” Sam grunted, his eyes still closed.

“Tough titty if I did, Gladys.”

Sam quietly giggled. “Can’t sleep?”

He felt Gene’s small shrug.

“What’s the matter, love?” he asked, caressing Gene’s knuckles as he still held his hand.

“You still like me?”

“Hard not to.”

“I’m serious.”

He turned to face Gene and lightly kissed his lips. “So am I.” Sam sighed as he nuzzled the tip of his nose to Gene’s.

Gene huffed. “Don’t get funny.”

They kissed again and a moan escaped Sam when Gene traced his lips under his jaw.

“You’re the funny one” Sam whispered, bringing his arms around Gene’s neck.

“I’m a piece of shit.”

Sam clicked his tongue as he put one of his hands in his sandy blonde locks. “Guv…”

“No, listen...”

Sam rolled onto his back, his arms still around Gene’s neck, and guided him over his body.

Gene cupped the back of his neck with his hand. “Love, I---”

“Kiss me.”

He put his hands on Gene’s cheeks and brought him to his lips again, and Gene kissed him hard, making him moan again.

He arched his back as Gene trailed kisses on his neck, and he clenched his fist in his hair as he gripped Gene’s arm.

“Sammy…” Gene’s warm breath sighed upon his naked chest.

“Oh, God...Gene…”

\----------------

Sam made the call to Dr. Holly Wilkins, a therapist that briefly met with Gene when Sam and Ruthie were returned to safety. He set the appointment for Wednesday afternoon.

“ _This_ Wednesday?” Gene asked during supper later that day. “Love, I’ve got that briefing with the Super.”

“Shit,” Sam groaned. “I forgot about that. Can’t you get out of it?”

Gene huffed. “If you’d like to talk to him, be my guest.”

Gene looked at Ruthie, who was dutifully eating the seven pieces of cauliflower she promised to eat out of the pile she made on the edge of her plate. “I’ll have to come to your next session, okay, Mouse?” he said.

Ruthie nodded before putting a floret into her mouth, grimacing as she chewed it. She pushed her plate to Gene’s. “I ate my seven,” she announced.

Gene giggled and scooped her cauliflower onto his plate with his fork.

Sam sighed and took a sip of his red wine.

“What is it?” Gene asked him.

He shook his head. “Never mind.”

“Afraid of making a bad first impression with your husband not showing up?”

“I said never mind, Gene,” Sam replied, tearing his bread roll in half.

“It’s okay, Daddy,” Ruthie said, mashing a few spaghetti noodles into the saucy minced beef. “Papa says he’ll come next time, and I believe him.”

Sam smiled at her. “I believe him, too, baby girl. By the way, you need to eat more veg than just those seven cauliflowers.”

“That’s asking a lot, Sammy,” Gene said.

“I’m eating them!” she insisted. “But my belly is getting full.”

“Oh? Well, we can skip ice cream, then,” Sam replied.

“I’m not _that_ full, Daddy!”

\---------

Gene’s meeting with the Super was cut short when Chris threw open his office door. They found their dealer, William Douglass, thanks to one of his cronies coming clean when he was interrogated. They were out of the building and into the Quattro like a flash.

They tracked him to an empty car park in a warehouse lot, just where the snitch said he would be, as he made all of his deals there. Ray saw him from the backseat window and bolted out of the car before Gene could park it.

He gave chase, caught up with Douglass and, as soon as he tried to grab him, Douglass made a kick at his shins and pushed out of his grip. He slugged Ray in the mouth, knocking him to the ground, but Ray shuffled himself upright and tackled him from behind. Douglass fell forward, his face hitting the concrete as Chris and Gene gained on them.

Ray held him down, pressing his knee into his back. “You’re nicked, you twat!” he spat at him.

Chris stood close by with his hand in his coat hovering over the gun in his holster.

“Shit,” Ray cursed, spitting blood from his cut lip as he searched for his cuffs in his blazer.

“Here,” Gene called, tossing his pair of cuffs to him. “Nice work, Sergeant. You alright?”

“Yeah, Guv, I’ll live...unlucky for _this_ bastard!” Ray snapped the cuffs on Douglass’s wrists and tightened them.

Chris helped Ray in lifting Douglass off the ground and they dragged him out of the alley.

Gene smirked as he watched them and took out his pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket.

He told Sam he would quit and he really was trying his best, but he had left his Juicy Fruit on the kitchen counter.

He was doing quite well, considering how his habit was when he and Sam first met. After Ruthie was born, he cut down to half a pack, but now he was smoking only three cigarettes a day.

He lit the cigarette and took a long, satisfied drag as he put the pack back into his coat. He closed his eyes and savored the smoke until he heard a muffled squeal. He looked behind him, but saw nothing, and took another drag when he heard it again.

He followed the sound to a litter bin and peered behind it. “Bloody hell,” he whispered, dropping the cigarette to the ground.

Wedged between the litter bin and the brick wall was a black dustbin liner, the closure of it tied into a knot. Gene knelt down to get a closer look and saw that there was movement, and he carefully tore a hole into the bag.

A shrill sound came from the hole and Gene gasped. A tiny, frail orange kitten, shaking and wet, emerged from the bag and mewled at him. Gene opened the bag more and sighed.

“Jesus,” came Ray’s voice behind him.

Gene quickly glanced at him before pulling the bawling kitten away from its lifeless siblings. He looked once more at the dead litter of kittens before lifting the liner off the ground and gently placing it into the nearest litter bin.

The kitten was trembling in Gene's grip as it looked around with frightened green eyes. It shrieked a louder mew and Gene soothed it, stroking its small head with his finger.

“Well,” Gene whispered, “hello there, little one. You’re soaked to the bone, you are. What happened to you?”

“Don’t ‘spose the mum is around, eh?” Ray asked.

“I’m sure the mum met the same fate,” Gene said, looking up and down the alley. “Probably somewhere down the river by now.”

“Bastards,” Ray said, shaking his head.

Gene took his handkerchief out of his trousers and carefully folded it around the kitten.

“What you gonna do with it?” Ray asked.

“Take it to the station and have a plod clean it up.” He and Ray walked out of the lot and back to the Quattro.

Chris was waiting for them, leaning against the bonnet while their perp sat in the backseat.

“Finally giving in, eh, Guv?” Chris said, grinning when he spotted the cat.

Gene glared at him. All of C-Division knew of his kitten woes.

He handed the small bundle to him. “Don't get too attached.”

Chris smiled. “Seriously, Guv?” he asked, bringing the kitten to his chest. “Is this Ruthie's kitten?”

“Get in the car!”

“What ya gonna name it?” Chris asked, getting into the passenger side.

“I’m sure it’ll be named after Ruthie’s favorite uncle,” Gene told them with a sly grin.

“Aye,” the sergeant said, “Ray’s a good name.”

“Christopher is even better,” Chris retorted.

“What? Christopher the Cat? You’re a nutter.”

\---------

Sam signed Ruthie out of school after lunchtime for their one ‘o'clock session, and, as he buckled her into her safety seat, he noticed her anxious expression.

“There’s no need to worry, sweetpea,” he assured her. “We’ll be together.”

She nodded and looked around the backseat. “Where’s Bertram?” she asked.

“He’s in front, with me. I’ll get him.” He opened the driver side door and leaned across the seat, picking up her stuffed lion. Instead of his Bobby uniform, he was dressed in a blue shirt with red shorts.

“Hold onto him, okay?” Sam said as he handed him to her, feeling rather silly for asking. She never let go of Bertram and it especially took some convincing to leave him at home when she had to return to school.

She stayed out of school after they returned home until she felt ready to see her teacher and classmates again. Ruthie loved school, as she loved to learn and she enjoyed being in the company of her friends. However, after returning, there were times when she would refuse to go outside when recess occurred, and one of the teacher’s aides would stay in the class with her, watching her draw as her classmates played outside.

Ruthie insisted on signing her name when they arrived at the therapist’s office, so after Sam signed his name, he gave her the pen and the receptionist smiled as Ruthie concentrated on her signature.

“Good job, love,” Sam praised her, “but you don’t need to put your full name. There’s no room.”

“But that’s my name!” she told him.

“Just ‘Ruthie’ will do, baby. Come on; let’s go have a sit down until Dr. Wilkins calls for us.”

Dr. Wilkins introduced herself as Holly and insisted that they call her by her first name. Sam thought she was rather young, with her smooth, fair skin and almond eyes. She had long, straight brown hair that was tied back in a simple ponytail, and she wore black dress slacks and a blue silk blouse.

She showed them into her office and closed the door, motioning to the sofa across from her chair. There was an oval walnut coffee table between them that held a stack of wooden and cork coasters and a couple of blank Steno pads.

Ruthie sat very close to Sam on the sofa and he put his arm around her as Holly sat across from them.

Sam cleared his throat. “I apologize for Gene not being here,” he said, “but he had a prior appointment with our Superintendent.”

Holly grinned and waved her hand. “It’s no bother, Mr. Tyler.” She picked up a Steno pad from the table. She clicked her pen and placed it on top of the pad which she placed in her lap. “What an adorable lion you have there, Ruthie,” she said. “What’s his name?”

Ruthie quickly looked up at Sam who smiled. “Go on, sweetheart,” he told her.

She looked at Holly and hugged her lion close. “Bertram,” she replied. “He’s a Bobby, but he’s not in uniform today.”

“Is he normally in uniform?”

Ruthie nodded. “He’s on Papa and Daddy’s team, but he stays at our house to patrol.”

“That’s a big job,” Holly said, “taking care of a whole family.”

“He’s quite good at it,” Sam added.

Holly smiled. “Ruthie, tell me about your school, please. Do you enjoy going?”

“Yes, ma’am,” she replied.

“Do you have a favorite subject?”

“Um...I like art time.”

“Oh, yeah?” Holly asked, smiling.

“Oh, yes,” Ruthie told her with a small grin. “I _love_ to draw.”

“She’s our little artist,” Sam stated. “Our fridge is covered with her work.”

Holly giggled. “What do you like to draw at art time?”

Ruthie pursed her lips, thinking. “Well, flowers, animals, all sorts of things, really. And I like to paint.”

“And you made that picture out of macaroni,” Sam reminded her. “Remember? Of the rainbow.”

Holly gasped. “A rainbow? How did you do that?”

Ruthie gave her a bigger smile now. “I glued macaroni on paper to look like a rainbow and then I painted it rainbow colors.”

“And is that one on the fridge, as well?”

“Oh, now, that one’s tacked up at the station in Papa’s office,” Sam said. “He shows it off every chance he gets.”

“What about recess?” Holly asked her. “Or sport?”

Ruthie perked up. “I love footie!”

“Oh, yeah? Do you play?”

“Daddy says I’m not old enough for junior teams, yet, but me and me mates play at recess. And Daddy and me play, too.”

“And, dare I ask, your favorite FC?”

Ruthie smiled and looked at Sam with a mischievous grin. “Manchester... _City_!”

Holly laughed as Sam rolled his eyes. “I take it you’re outnumbered at home, Mr. Tyler,” she observed.

He laughed, too. “You’re not wrong. And please, call me Sam.” He playfully tugged one of Ruthie's blonde pigtails. “There’s still time, girl. I’ll make you a Red Devil yet.”

Holly kept her grin and leaned forward in her chair. “Ruthie, I’m going to ask you about what happened, and I need you to answer me in the best way you can, all right?”

Ruthie sighed and nodded. “Okay.”

“Now, you can stop any time you’d like, love,” Holly assured her. “It’s important to talk about what happened so that we can work through the emotions. Do you understand?”

She and Sam watched as Ruthie smirked and looked at her blue Converse trainers. “I...think so.”

Sam took one of her hands and she squeezed it.

“Okay,” Holly said in a gentle voice. “What can you tell me about that day in the park?”

“Um, well,” she began,  “me and Daddy go there every Sunday, and we have ice cream after I play.”

“Did you get ice cream that day?”

Ruthie nodded again. “Yes, um...I ate my ice cream and then I played some more...and then...I went to the sandbox, and…”

Holly noticed that Sam shifted uncomfortably at Ruthie’s pause.

Sam smirked and patted her hand. “It’s okay, darling."

She sniffed and nodded. “I remember digging a hole and then I was out of the sandbox. I thought it was Daddy picking me up, but...it didn’t feel like the way Daddy holds me. They picked me up really hard.”

Her voice started to waver, but she continued, “He put his hand over my mouth and he sort of smelled like Papa’s cigarettes, but I knew it wasn’t Papa either because he was in London. Um...then...the man told me to…” A tear rolled down her cheek. “He told me to be quiet or he would kill Daddy.”

Holly got out of her chair and went to her desk to retrieve a box of tissues. She handed it to Sam who drew out a tissue for Ruthie. He wiped her cheeks and brought her to his lap, resting his cheek on her head.

“Did Daddy see these men?” Holly asked.

“I saw a man sneak up behind him,” Ruthie said. “I saw Daddy looking for me...and he looked scared. I wanted to tell him I was okay, but the man said he would kill him if I did. Then, the man behind Daddy pulled out a gun and...pointed it at him.”

Sam kissed the top of her head.

“What happened then?”

She began wringing one of Bertram’s paws in her hands. “He made Daddy follow us to a big van. It was all dark inside. They tied us up.”

“Sam,” Holly said, “do you remember how long you were in the van?”

Sam lifted his head and shrugged. “Felt like hours,” he replied in a low voice. “Seemed that way. All I could think of was Ruthie...and what they would do to us. I didn’t even know who they were. Their voices weren’t familiar. I just know that I wanted to hold her because she was crying for me, for Gene.”

“They were going to kill us,” Ruthie muttered.

“Baby,” Sam said, squeezing her tighter.

“What makes you say that, Ruthie?” Holly asked.

More tears fell onto her cheeks. “I just knew. I don’t know why they didn’t like us, but I knew they would kill us.”

“Ruthie, baby,” Sam’s said as his voice strained and his eyes filled with tears.

“I knew that Papa would be really sad,” she sobbed, “ and I don’t want Papa to be all by himself.”

Sam cried, too, holding her close. “Shh, baby girl,” he soothed her. He looked up at Holly with red eyes. “I didn’t know she felt this way.”

Ruthie gripped Sam’s shirt as she cried harder. They were silent as she did, Sam holding his own composure as he comforted his child. However, his heart pounded when Ruthie began to tremble.

“Baby?” Sam moved her so he could cradle her, and she started to wheeze, as if she couldn’t breathe. “Oh my, God, it’s happening again! Sweetheart, please, it’s okay. Calm down, Ruthie.” He gently placed his hand on her chest. “Take deep breaths.”

Holly put down her Steno pad and opened her office door. “Katherine, could you get us a glass of ice water, please? Quickly.”

She approached the sofa and knelt in front of Ruthie. “Sam, make her stand, please.”

He immediately put her on her feet, but grasped her hands. Bertram dropped to the floor and Ruthie shrieked.

Holly quickly picked him up and held him in front of her. “Ruthie, has this happened before?”

Ruthie nodded as she whimpered.

“I know this is scary, but you’re not in any danger, okay?”

Ruthie nodded again and swallowed hard before wheezing again.

Holly held Bertram to her chest. “Keep an eye on Bertram, okay, and listen to me count. When I get to the number ten, we’re going to take a deep breath. Right? Here we go.”

Sam watched anxiously as Holly slowly counted and when she stopped at ten, both she and Ruthie deeply inhaled.

“Good job, love,” Holly praised her. “Let’s do it again. One...two...three…”

By the fourth round of counting, Ruthie’s wheezing stopped and although her breathing was ragged, she was able to stop trembling.

After a brief pause, Holly looked down at Bertram and straightened his blue shirt.

“You know?’ she said. “I had a friend like your lion,” Holly said, "She was a brown squirrel named Maisie. She went everywhere with me.”

Ruthie’s grip on Sam’s fingers softened and Sam kissed her head.

“She wasn’t a Bobby,” Holly continued, “but a doctor, just like I wanted to be. Sometimes, she would be my patient when she was ill, and I was hers when I was ill. She always helped me get me better.”

Ruthie grinned. “Did you have a kitty when you were little?”

“Well, yes, I did,” she replied. “We had a few. They were mostly strays that wandered up, but Mum loved them, so she fed them. Never allowed in the house, but I always played with them outside after school.

“I’m getting a kitty soon,” Ruthie said.

“Really?” Holly asked. “That’s wonderful.”

“We’re going to the shelter to adopt one. Daddy says there are kitties that are lost that go to shelters, and I want to give one a home.”

“And I just know that your new kitty will be the luckiest in the world.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yes!” Holly told her. “A sweet mum to play with, two daddies who are coppers, and a lion on patrol? Sounds like the best home for a lost kitten.”

Sam smiled and noticed that Ruthie had let go of his fingers.

Holly gave Bertram back to Ruthie and she hugged him. She looked at Holly, saying, “Do you still have your squirrel?”

Holly smiled. “She lives with my mum, actually. In my old bedroom.”

“They take care of each other, too?” Ruthie asked.

“Yes, they do.” Her receptionist entered the office and handed the glass of ice water to Ruthie. “Thank you, Katherine,” Holly said. “Take small sips, love.”

Ruthie held the glass with both hands and drank her fill.

“Ruthie,” Holly said, “do you mind staying with Katherine for a few minutes so I can talk to your daddy?”

Ruthie looked at Katherine. “Okay,” she said, and she followed the receptionist into the waiting area.

“Do you like Legos?” Katherine asked her.

“Yes,” Ruthie replied. “I have lots. Me and Papa build all kinds of stuff.”

Katherine closed the door behind them, leaving Holly and Sam alone.

Sam instantly put his face in his hands and let his tears fall.

“Would you like water, too, Sam?” Holly asked, sitting beside him.

He shook his head and took a tissue from the box between them.

“How long has she had panic attacks?”

“Since we came back,” Sam said. “I waited a few weeks to take her back to the park. I thought she was ready. She wanted to go; she told me she wanted to go because she missed swinging on the swings.” He giggled through his tears as he wiped his eyes. “She likes for me to push her on the swings, you see?”

Holly nodded.

“It was her favorite place, but when I took her...God, I shouldn’t have done it. She refused to get out of the car, and then...she started doing _that_. It lasted nearly half an hour, I didn’t know what to do. I almost drove her to A&E.”

He let out a loud sniff and wiped his eyes again. “She doesn’t do that anymore, really. She plays at the park like normal, except when a big car pulls up. She’ll stop whatever she’s doing and just stare at it. Like she’s in a trance and I can’t tell if she’s reliving what happened that day or--mind you, I stay very close to her, though, but it’s almost like...she’s expecting those men to climb out of every big car or van that she sees.”

He cleared his throat. “But I didn’t think she would do _that_ anywhere else. I thought they were over with...”

Holly put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m going to give you a pamphlet about what to do if this happens again. The key is to stay calm and to get her to breathe. The counting to ten always seems to help my patients the best, but it’s important that _you_ remain calm so that _she_ can.”

“Does she need medicine?” Sam asked.

“No, not at all. However, if they become more frequent, she can be prescribed a very low dosage of--”

“Oh, Lord. Gene’s going to love that.”

Holly grinned. “She doesn’t need it right now, and she may never need it at all. It’s up to you and your husband. I just want you to know that you have options. Sometimes therapy alone doesn’t help.”

Sam sighed. “God, I wish Gene had come. This probably wouldn’t have happened.”

“Let’s call it a day, then,” Holly said. “Why don’t you come back next week, when you know that he can be here? Just give Katherine a ring and she’ll set it up for us.”

Sam grinned and they both stood. “Thank you. I’ll talk to him tonight and call in the morning,” Sam said. He wiped his face before throwing away his and Ruthie’s tissues into the bin by the sofa.

Holly escorted him into the waiting room where Ruthie was sitting on the floor with Katherine, building a small city with bright Legos.

\---------------

That evening, Ruthie took a very bubbly bath, and then dressed in her blue striped nightgown. Sam helped her dress Bertram into his Bobby uniform.

“He has to be on watch tonight,” Ruthie explained to him. “Since he had the whole day off today.”

Sam nodded. “I’ll make a note of it in his file.”

They were now sitting at the dinner table, and Sam watched as she twirled her spoon in her Hoops.

“You feeling better, my girl?” Sam asked, pushing her bangs back from her forehead.

Ruthie shrugged. She continued to push her Hoops around in her bowl and said, “I didn’t do good today.”

“You did just fine, love,” he assured her. “Holly is here to help us and it’s okay to cry.”

“I think I scared her,” she said, “when I said those men would kill us.”

Sam squeezed her hand. “It’s okay,” he said. “You can tell her anything.”

Ruthie nodded and asked, “How long do I have to go to her, Daddy?”

“Until you feel better.”

“When will I be better?”

Sam sighed and took a sip of his red wine. He licked his lips as he set down the glass. “I don’t know, baby,” he said. “But, it’ll be easier as time goes on, talking to her.”

Ruthie put down her spoon and sat back in her chair.

“Are you not hungry?” Sam asked. “You can have something else, if you’d like. Papa will be home soon and he can make one of his famous toasted cheese sandwiches for you.”

Ruthie shook her head. “I’ll eat my Hoops, Daddy,” she told him. “I’m just sad right now.”

Sam leaned from his chair and kissed her cheek.

“I think she’s very nice, though,” she said.

“I think so, too,” Sam replied, smiling.

They heard the front door open and Gene’s voice greeted them. “Evenin’, loves,” he said in a hearty tone.

“Evenin’, Mr. Tyler,” Sam said with a cheeky grin.

Gene huffed as Sam stood from his chair. He was carrying a brown paper sack in the crook of his arm. “Well, hello, there, Mr. Hunt.”

Sam giggled as Gene gave him a hard kiss on his lips. “My, my,” he said, “I think Papa had a good day.”

Gene gave him the bag and smiled, putting his hands on his hips. “If you call ‘finally catching the dope dealer you’ve been sniffing out for weeks’ a good day, then Papa had a very good day, indeed.”

“You’re serious?” Sam asked, his eyes wide. “Where did you track him? Did he talk? Are there others or is he---?”

“Later, love,” Gene said, still smiling. “It’ll make a good bedtime story.”

Sam took the paper sack into the kitchen and peered inside. There was a small canister of powder formula with a few tiny plastic baby bottles and small tins of cat food.

Sam watched Gene with a curious expression as he bent down and kissed the top of Ruthie’s head.

“How was your day, Mouse?” he asked, kneeling in front of her.

Ruthie smirked as she shrugged. “Okay,” she replied.

“Just okay?” Gene said. “Well, I happen to know that tomorrow will be better.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course! Do you know how I know?”

Ruthie smiled. “Because you’re the Gene Genie.”

“That’s my girl,” he said, stroking her cheek. He started to take off his coat, but stopped with a confused expression. “That’s odd,” he said.

“What’s odd, Guv?” Sam asked as he approached them.

“Me coat feels heavy.” Gene reached into a pocket. “Nope, nothing in that one.” He checked the other pocket and paused. “Wait a tick...”

He pulled out a blue handkerchief that was swaddling a tiny orange kitten with green eyes that looked around as it lazily blinked.

Ruthie gasped and then squealed as she jumped out of her chair and bounced. She rushed over to Sam and grabbed his arm as she continued to hop.

“Daddy, look, it’s a kitten! Oh my goodness! Papa brought a kitten!!”

Sam laughed. “Well, go take a look, baby!” he told her.

She put her hands over her mouth as she continued to shriek with glee, and Gene laughed.

“Oh my goodness!!” Ruthie exclaimed. “Oh my goodness, Papa! A kitty! Thank you, thank you!” She continued to jump until Gene stopped her.

“Ruthie, look at me,” he said, using his free hand to hold her arm. “Stop bouncing for a minute and listen to Papa, alright?”

“Okay,” Ruthie said, trying not to cry.

“This little girl is very fragile right now,” Gene told her motioning to the kitten.

Ruthie gasped again. “It’s a girl?”

Gene smiled. “Yes, she’s quite a tiny girl, and she’s very young so you have to be careful when holding her.”

“What happened to her?” she asked. “Was she in a shelter?”

Gene sighed. “No, love. She was...well, to be honest, she was abandoned. I found her in an alley, all alone, and her mummy wasn’t around.”

Ruthie looked at the kitten and pet her head with one finger. “Poor thing,” she said in a sad voice.

“She’s had a bath and a little bit of milk at the station,” Gene said, “but otherwise, she seems healthy. We’ll take her to a vet tomorrow for a full check up. So, in the meantime, be careful with her and don’t be rough.”

“Oh, Papa, I would never be rough with her, I promise!” Ruthie’s voice was breaking and happy tears filled her eyes. “May I hold her?”

“Of course you can, baby,” Gene said, giggling. “She’s yours.”

Gene placed the kitten on her back in the crook of Ruthie’s arm.

Sam looked at the bundle in her arms. “Oh, she’s adorable, love,” he said.

“She’s the most precious thing I’ve ever seen!” Ruthie cried, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“And you know? She has the same orange coloring that _my_ cat had.”

Ruthie looked up at him, amazed. “Really?” She looked down at her new kitten again and smiled.

Gene was still kneeling and watching his daughter fawn over her new kitten when he felt Sam lean down over his back and wrap his arms around his neck. Gene took one of Sam’s hands and squeezed it as he received a loving kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you,” Sam whispered in his ear and Gene smiled as he stood again.

“What’s her name?” Ruthie asked.

Gene shrugged. “Doesn’t have one. What do _you_ think?”

“I don’t know,” Ruthie whined.

“Well, take a look at her,” Sam suggested, “and see if anything comes to mind.”

Ruthie wiped her cheeks with her free hand and stared at the kitten who continued to look at her with curious eyes. She stroked the kitten’s cheek with her finger and it yawned and managed to free one of its paws from the washcloth and stretched it toward Ruthie, spreading the toes.

“Daisy,” she said.

Sam and Gene looked at each other, grinning. “That’s a pretty name,” Gene said.

“Yes,” Ruthie agreed, her tears subsiding. “Daisy Bell Tyler-Hunt.”

“Perfect name,” Sam stated.

“And I think it’s time for Daisy Bell’s supper,” Gene said. “Come on, then.”

“Okay,” Ruthie said.

She followed Gene into the kitchen and Sam watched as he retrieved a saucer from the cupboard and brought it and the paper bag to the floor.

“Now,” Gene grunted as he knelt again. He brought out a tin of cat food. “According to Auntie Phyllis, Daisy Bell is five or six weeks old and should start eating solid food. But, just in case, she showed me how to prepare a bottle for her.”

Sam crossed his arms and smiled. “Phyllis taught you how to bottle feed a kitten?”

Gene quickly glanced up at him and huffed, “Yes, of course she did.”

Sam, still smiling, shook his head. “Oh, to be a fly on the wall.”

“You can be my _husband_ in the _kitchen_ right now and hand me a can opener and spoon.”

Sam giggled and retrieved the items for him.

At the sound of the can opener, Daisy Bell curiously watched as the tin can spun around, and her feet kicked when the tin was opened and a fresh whiff of pureed salmon hit her nose.

Ruthie laughed. “Hurry, Papa, she’s hungry.”

After plopping two small scoops of cat food on the saucer, he set it on the floor. Ruthie then cautiously set Daisy Bell in front of the saucer, and the kitten squirmed her way out of her hands and instantly tucked in to her supper.

Gene stood up and took to Sam’s side.

“You really found her in an alley?” Sam asked him in a whisper.

Gene nodded. “Yeah, behind a litter bin” he replied, “in a wet bag...with her brothers and sisters.”

Sam looked at him. “Were they--?”

“Yeah…”

“Jesus,” Sam sighed. “Was she covered in fleas, then?”

“Not really. Just soaked through and shivering. Phyllis gave her a good dip, though. She called up her new fella to bring flea shampoo and kitten formula to the station.”

“Didn’t know Phyllis had cats...or a new fella.”

“She apparently has six of them.”

“Fellas?” Sam grinned, slyly.

“No, you silly sod.” He kissed Sam’s temple. “Wouldn’t put it past her, though.”

“Guv."

Gene put his arm around him. “How was, uh....how was the session?”

Sam cleared his throat. “It went well, but then...she had a spell.”

“Panic attack?” Gene’s voiced wavered.

Sam hesitated. “Urm, yeah. It was.”

“What happened?”

“You don’t have to--”

“What are they like, Sam?”

Sam licked his lips and sighed. “Well, she was recounting what happened at the park, um...you know... _that_ day...and then it was as if she was trying to catch her breath. She was breathing hard like she had been running a marathon or something. Holly was able to calm her down and she gave me a pamphlet on what to do when it happens again...well, _if_ it happens.”

Gene licked his lips and squeezed Sam closer. “Are they _always_ like that?”

Sam placed his head on Gene’s shoulder. “Yeah.”

“You say she gave you a pamphlet, then?”

Sam raised his head and looked at him. “It’s in my coat.” He could see the tension in Gene’s jaw as he nodded again in acknowledgement. “Holly would like for you to join us next week, if possible,” he told him. “Well, if you don’t have any other appointments with the Super or--”

“Tuesday,” Gene interrupted.

“What time?”

“Just name it and I'll be there.”

Sam grinned and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

“Papa?” Ruthie said as she watched Daisy Bell lick her paw, having completed her pureed salmon.

“Yes, my love?”

“Will you make me a toasted cheese sandwich, please?”

He pointed to her bowl on the table. “What about your ‘Oops?” he asked.

“I’ll eat those, too. They’re the best with your sandwiches.”

Sam laughed. “Looks like her appetite is back.” He turned Gene to him and gave him a loving kiss. “I’d like a sandwich, too, please,” he stated as he pulled away.

“Who am I? _The Galloping Gourmet_?” Gene asked.


	3. Tension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gene joins Sam and Ruthie for a therapy session.

Later that night, Ruthie made a bed out of a shoe box for Daisy Bell and lined it with one of her old baby blankets. She was still worried, however.

“Daddy, _please_?”

“She’s too small to sleep with you, Ruthie,” Sam told her for the third time.

“Yeah, but, what if she gets scared? What if she wakes up and starts crying?”

Sam sighed and approached her as she held the kitten close to her chest. “Tonight might be a bit scary for her,” he said, stroking Daisy Bell's chin. “After all, this is a new place and she’s not accustomed to us yet. But her box will be close to your bed, so if she starts crying, just call out to her so she's knows she isn't alone.”

Ruthie smirked, but nodded. “Okay…”

He kissed the top of her head. “It’s bedtime, baby. Tuck her in.”

Daisy Bell’s eyes were half-closed until Ruthie set her in the shoe box. The kitten looked at her and loudly mewed.

“It’s alright,” Ruthie comforted her as she knelt next to the box. She looked up at Sam. “Daddy, can I sleep down here next to her?”

Sam huffed. “On the floor? Absolutely not. Now, say good night.”

Ruthie sighed and lightly pet her kitten's head. “Good night, sweetheart. I’ll be right up here.” She pointed to her bed. “Don’t be afraid.”

Sam grinned as Ruthie climbed onto her own bed and turned off her lamp. “Night night, sweetpea.”

“Night night, Daddy.”

He went into the master bedroom and closed the door behind him. In the dim street light through the curtains, he saw Gene lying on his back in bed with his hands behind his head.

He took off his vest as he walked to Gene's side, and after tossing it to the floor, lifted the duvet to climb on top of him.

A low giggle came from his husband as he moved his hands down along Sam's naked back.

“Ready for bed, are you?”

“Mm-hmm,” Sam replied as he kissed him, grinding his crotch into him.

“You cheeky sod.” Gene cupped one of his hands on Sam’s arse cheek. “What’s giving you the horn?”

Sam only grinned. His cock stiffened as he carded his fingers through his hair. “I want you, Gene.”

His hand traveled to the waistband of his pajama bottoms. “Sammy...”

Sam sucked Gene's bottom lip. "Can I ride your cock? You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Love?"

"Yeah?"

“Not tonight.”

Sam paused in his cuddling. “What?”

“It was a long day.”

Sam pursed his lips. “Okay.” He sighed as he slid off of Gene’s body.

“Sam.”

“I said it’s okay." He laid on his back and crossed his arms.

“It’s not, though, is it?”

“Gene…”

“Talk to me.”

“It's...well, it's just that we haven’t done it for some time now.”

“Well, the other night--”

“All we did was snog and then you fell asleep.”

“I was tired then, too.”

“Then why were you intimate with me?”

“Because you started it! I didn’t know you wanted to _do it!”_

“We’ve only made love once since...you know.”

Gene groaned. “Jesus, Sammy, don’t do this again.”

“It’s been four months.”

“It’s got nothing to do with you. It’s...it’s been hard. What with work and--”

“Yeah, _work_ ,” Sam interjected.

“Fine! You want to know, Tyler?”

“Yes, for God's sake!”

Gene sighed. “I don't want to hurt you like the last time.”

“Eh?”

“You panicked, love. You were fighting me off like I was---”

“I wasn't---”

“You _were_ , Sam! You practically threw yourself off the bed and locked yourself in the loo."

Sam turned away from him and hugged arms tightly around his chest. "Stop it."

"You were shaking, love," Gene told him, his tone softer now. "What did I do?"

He sniffed. "You did nothing..."

"Could've fool _me_."

“You did _nothing_ , I said!”

“Are you sure?”

Sam took a deep breath and sighed. “You didn’t hurt me. I just---”

“Was it 'cause I held your wrists down?”

“I...sort of…”

“Tyler,” Gene whispered with a low growl, “did those bastards do anything _else_ to you while you were tied up?”

Sam whirled around to face him. “Christ, Guv, no!”

“I’m only---”

“My wrists were tied behind my back for days! There were times I couldn’t feel me arms. I didn’t mean to panic! It just happened!”

Another silent moment passed between them and Gene turned to him and caressed his shoulder.

Sam sniffed again. “I would have told you if they had done anything else.”

“I know.” Gene put his hand on his warm cheek.

Sam kissed his palm. “You didn’t hurt me. And you won’t. We’ve always been rough, so I can handle it.”

“I _do_ want to make love,” Gene said.

“But?”

He sighed again. “But...I didn’t know if you were ready again after that night. We haven’t talked about it.”

Sam huffed. “I’m a hypocrite.”

“How so?”

“I insist that we talk about things, but...then I clam up.”

“Only when we talk about _you_.” Gene giggled. “You’ve always been that way, love.”

They were interrupted by a knocking on their bedroom door. “Yes?” Gene said.

Ruthie opened the door as Sam turned on his bedside lamp.

“Mouse, it’s time for bed,” Gene told her.

“I know, Papa, but Daisy Bell is shivering,” she said. She stepped closer and carefully held the kitten out to him. “See?”

Sam sat up and noticed that her kitten was indeed trembling.

“Maybe she’s scared, baby,” Gene said.

“She’s _cold_ , Papa,” she whimpered. “I know she is. Can’t she _please_ sleep with me? My bed is nice and warm.”

Gene shook his head. “No, Ruth Anne. We talked about this. She’s too small.”

“I slept in _your_ bed when I was too small!”

“Ruthie.”

“She's going to _freeze_ to death!”

“She’s not going to--”

“Papa, _please_!”

“Hold on, sweetheart,” Sam said as he got out of bed and put on his dressing gown. He walked past her and into their closet. “Why don’t we find something to make _her_ bed warmer instead?”

She headed to the closet as Sam searched through their clothes. “How do we do that, Daddy?”

“Well,” he said, “I’ve got an old scarf up here somewhere.”

“Wait, I know just the thing,” Gene said as he rose out of bed, too. He slipped on his own dressing gown and moved into the closet, past Sam. He reached up to a shelf and brought down a big wool-lined hat. “She can sleep in _this_ ,” he showed them. “This always kept me head warm in the winter.”

Sam laughed. “I haven’t seen that ugly thing in years.”

“Ugly it may be, but this is a class chapeau, ta very much.”

“What is it?” Ruthie asked.

“It’s a, uh...well…” Gene examined it. “It’s a ear flap hat.”

“Ushanka,” Sam corrected him.

“Gesundheit.”

“No, Gene, that’s what the hat’s called.”

“Papa, will it really keep her warm?” Ruthie asked.

“Of course! Come on, then. The Gene Genie will fix her right up.”

Once they were in Ruthie’s bedroom, Gene knelt to the floor in front of the shoe box. He turned his hat upside down and took the baby blanket from the box. He lined the inside of his ushanka with it.

“Here, hand her over,” he instructed, and Ruthie gave her to him.

He carefully placed the kitten inside the hat and wrapped the blanket around her. She immediately began to purr and Ruthie giggled.

“Oh, Papa,” she said. “I think she likes it.”

Sam smiled as he watched from the door. “That should keep her warm now.”

“Look at that, Mouse,” Gene said, holding her kitten in her newly acquired bed. “How’s that for a cat in the hat?”

Sam rolled his eyes, but Ruthie giggled as she took the hat from him.

Ruthie cradled the hat in her arms and sat on the floor. She slowly swayed her body, until Gene stopped her.

“Here, love. Rock her like this.” Gene put his fingertips on her elbows and guided them to move from side to side. “Just like that. Me and Daddy rocked you like this when you were a baby. Put you right to sleep.” He stood up and walked past Sam and into the corridor.

“Put the hat in the shoe box as soon as she falls asleep, okay?” Sam said. “And then you go right back to bed.”

“I will, Daddy,” she replied.

“Night night, Mousey-girl,” Gene called from the master bedroom

“Shhh! Papa! She’s almost asleep.”

“Oh, sorry.”

\-----------

**Tuesday**

As they sat in the waiting area of Dr. Wilkins’ office, Ruthie flipped through a car magazine that was laid out on Gene’s lap.

“What’s that pretty blue car?” she asked, pointing to a picture.

“That’s an MG Metro, love,” Gene replied. “Hm, new model, that is. Wouldn’t mind driving that.”

“You wouldn’t trade that flashy car of yours,” Sam teased him.

Gene cleared his throat. “You promised no lip about the Quattro, my dear.”

“But why _red_?”

“Because it’s class.”

Sam grinned. “Oh, yes I forgot that Gene Hunt was an authority on class.”

“See that you don’t forget it again.” Gene turned back to the magazine. “See this one, Mouse?” he asked, pointing to a dull gray car. “That’s a Yugo P.O.S.”

“What’s a P.O.S.?” she asked, putting Bertram on her shoulders.

“Nice one, Guv,” Sam scolded. “Ruthie, don’t call anything that, okay?”

“Why not?” she asked him.

“It’s not a nice thing to say.”

“Daddy’s right,” Gene agreed. “I shouldn’t have said it.”

Sam stared at his brown boots as he crossed his ankles, his hands resting on the arms of his chair. He felt Gene stroke his knuckles and he couldn’t help but grin again.

“Thank you,” Sam said, hooking his index finger around Gene’s.

“What for?” Gene muttered.

“For being here.”

“I told you I would be.”

“Well,” Sam licked his lips and whispered, “I know it’s difficult for you.”

“What’s difficult?”

Sam sighed. “Talking about what happened. Just...just keep in mind that we’re going to have to in order to---”

“I know why we’re here, Tyler,” Gene said in a low tone.

“Yeah but, you don’t---”

“Look, I’m _here_ , aren’t I?” he said through gritted teeth.

Sam withdrew his hand and crossed his legs, looking away again.

Gene glanced at the receptionist, who was reading a Harlequin romance. He quickly leaned in and kissed Sam’s temple.

Sam looked at him, still frowning.

“Whatever you do, Tyler,” Gene whispered, staring back into his dark eyes with a serious expression, “don’t...smile.”

The corner of Sam’s mouth twitched and he turned his head, but Gene leaned into him.

“Don’t do it,” he said again.

Sam covered his mouth. “Stop it,” he murmured, pursing his lips to hold back the smile that always came when Gene did this.

“I’m warning you, Sammy-cakes. You’d better stay cross with me.”

“Don’t call me that. “Dammit, why does that work?”

“I’m charming, aren’t I?”

“No, you’re _annoying_.”

“Say that to my face.”

Sam turned to him again, frowning once more but then softly snorted.

As soon as Holly showed them into her office, Ruthie told her about Daisy Bell. “She’s orange with white toes and a white spot on her chest. She’s so cute! Papa brought her home because she didn’t have a mummy.”

Holly smiled at her. “And you’ve given her a very pretty name. How did you come up with it?”

Ruthie shrugged. “I just looked in her eyes and I knew that was her name.”

“That’s how she came up with Bertram’s name,” Sam explained. “She got him at her first Christmas and she didn’t call him that until she started to talk, and we still don’t know where she got the name.”

“Probably heard it on the telly,” Gene said, rubbing his palms on his thighs.

“Is that true, Ruthie?” Holly asked. “Or did you know your lion’s name was Bertram?”

“I just knew, I guess,” she smiled.

Holly settled in her chair as Ruthie climbed onto the sofa, sitting between her fathers. She put her pen in her hand and her notepad on the arm of her chair.

Gene cleared his throat and folded his hands in his lap as he watched her prepare.

“Ruthie,” Holly addressed her in a soft tone, “your daddy told me over the phone that you have dreams about where you were. I would like to hear more about them today, if that’s alright?”

Ruthie hesitated, but nodded as she held Bertram to her side.

“Very good,” Holly said with a smile. “What do you see in these dreams?”

“Well,” Ruthie began. “They’re all the same.”

“Tell me how they usually start.”

Gene cut a wary glance at her but didn’t interrupt, and put his hand on Ruthie’s back.

“Well, I go to sleep and then when I dream, it’s all dark where I am,” she said. “It was very dark where they put us. I don’t know where it was. Um, and then I see Daddy and he’s...” Her voice wavered, but she continued, “he’s got blood on his face and he looks like he’s asleep and...”

Gene sighed and shifted on the sofa, pulling his hand off Ruthie’s back and crossing his arms over his chest.

He expected his first session with them to be a challenge, having to hear the details all over again. He had interviewed Sam from the hospital and his own daughter in his office, but this would be the first time he was faced with how it affected them, something he was not used to in the interview process.

“Is the blood Daddy’s blood?” Holly asked.

Ruthie nodded. “Yeah. See...they hurt Daddy a lot...and they hurt him in my dream, too.” She paused to wipe away a tear that dropped onto her cheek. “Sometimes...they hurt him so much that he would go to sleep. It always took him a long time to wake up...but in my dream...he doesn’t wake up.”

Gene’s heart began to pound and his frown grew deeper as he sighed again.

Holly took notice and asked, “Mr. Hunt, are you alright?”

He uncrossed his arms. “Is this really necessary?”

“Guv, you promised.”

“It’s okay, Sam,” Holly told him. “Mr. Hunt, what we’re doing is called exposure therapy and it’s been proven to help people who have developed post traumatic stress disorder.”

“You’ve already diagnosed her?” Gene asked. “After one bloody session?”

“Gene, _please_.” Sam whispered.

“Ruthie has symptoms of PTSD,” Holly explained, “including anxiety and panic disorder.”

“ _Disorder_?”

Sam shifted on the sofa to face him. “Gene, I told you! She had a panic attack last week and has ever since the incident. Why are you _doing_ this?”

“Doing what, Tyler?”

“Acting ignorant!”

“Gentlemen, please,” Holly interrupted. “Mr. Hunt, if Ruthie feels uncomfortable talking about these dreams, then she has every right to not talk about them until she’s ready.”

Gene looked down at Ruthie. “Do you want to talk about these dreams of yours, Mouse?”

Ruthie didn’t look at him as she nodded.

He cleared his throat and rubbed her back. “Okay,” he said, in a calmer voice. “Okay, love. I’m sorry. Just...go on.” He leaned back into the sofa and crossed his arms again.

Ruthie sniffed and continued. “Um...well, the bad men would hit Daddy and in my dream, they don’t stop hitting him. I scream at them to stop, but...they don’t hear me. Daddy doesn’t wake up. Even when one of them…” She stopped and looked at Sam.

“It’s okay, baby,” he told her.

She looked at Gene as tears streaked down her cheeks.

Gene’s heart skipped at the frightened look on her face, but he nodded for her to continue.

Ruthie hitched back a sob as she turned back to Holly and squeezed Bertram. “One of them...took out a gun, and he pointed it at Daddy...in my dream...he…” Her voice broke and she put her face in Bertram’s mane. “He shoots Daddy in the head.”

“Right, that’s enough,” Gene growled, standing up from the sofa and walking away from them. “Exposure therapy, my arse! You’re making it worse!”

“Papa…” Ruthie said in a meek voice.

“Why does she have to do this?” he demanded to Holly. “You _know_ what happened; it’s in your bloody files!”

“Mr. Hunt,” Holly said in a calm voice, “exposure therapy may seem harsh to you, but this is the best way to work through her trauma.”

“So you make her talk about her father being shot in the head? Oh, yeah, that’s a great way to forget her trauma!” Gene shouted.

“Guv, stop it!” Sam told him.

Holly stood from her chair. “Your husband and your daughter will _never_ forget what happened to them, but this type of treatment will help them face it so they can move on.”

“She’s been through enough!”

“Gene,” Sam said, standing. “I think I’ve figured out why you never want to talk about this!”

He finally turned to him. “Oh, yeah? Please, do share.”

Sam sighed. “I’ve worked with you a long time, Guv, and I know how you treat closed cases. Like it’s just another day on the job. And that’s how you treated _our_ case. We were found, patched up, interviews taken, perps booked, case closed, let’s pack it in! Well, it was never over for us, Gene! As you can see, we relive it. And you turn your _bloody_ head away, like it doesn’t concern you! Gene, we’re your _family_!”

Ruthie sank back against the sofa as she watched them, tears flowing down her cheeks.

“You think I went home every night peachy, bloody keen, is that it, Tyler?” Gene asked, his voice now lower. “Washed me hands of it when I left the station? I bloody well lived there, Sam! Hanging on to every lead, every phone call, every tip, and with every second I knew there was a chance that all I had in this world could already be gone! I got letters from those bastards, Sam. With your ring, with Ruthie’s ribbons. You know what _I_ relive, Tyler?”

Sam’s bottom lip began to tremble but he didn’t answer.

Gene sniffed and exhaled a shaky breath. “When they told me to _choose_.” He stared at him, but still got no reply. “How fucking dare you…” He ran his hand over his eyes and turned away.  

Sam looked at Holly and said, “I’m so sorry.” He looked at Ruthie who was now hanging her head and crying.

Gene could hear Ruthie’s sobs and his eyes began to burn with tears.

He sighed and shook his head. “Okay.” He turned and put his hands on his hips. He looked at Sam and sniffed back the burning in his eyes. “You want to know why I don’t like this? Here it is.” He took a deep breath. “I have dreams, too.”

Sam’s lips parted in surprise. “What?”

Gene glanced at Holly who was sitting in her chair again with her notepad. “Yeah, I do.”

“How many times have you---?”

“All the time, Sam. Nearly every night, in fact.”

Ruthie lifted her head from Bertram’s mane and wiped her cheeks as she listened.

He met his daughter’s eyes and cleared his throat. “I dream that...well, sometimes, you’re never found.” He began to slowly pace by the sofa. “Or you’re found but one of you...is, um...you know. And you either die in my arms or…” He cleared his throat again and shut his eyes tight to fight back the tears. “It’s fucking gruesome the ways I find you…”

He looked into Sam’s dark eyes and his breath hitched. “I know you and Ruthie are hurting, and I see it, but I just...” His voice broke and he looked at their daughter again. “Every time you and Ruthie wake up crying, every time you try to talk to me about it...all I can think about is...my own dreams and what _could_ have happened.”

“Guv…”

“It was hard for me, too, you know?” Gene’s voice strained as he spoke, but he kept the tears from coming. “Some days, I wanted to just to pack it in! You were missing for so long. I was so tired and shattered, not sleeping, not eating. The house was empty and quiet and your side of the bed was just...our bed was so cold, I couldn’t even bring myself to go into our room most nights!”

He stopped when his voice broke again and he took another deep breath before continuing. “I wanted to hold you, to hold Ruthie because I knew you both were scared...if you were even still alive. And Sammy...if I had gotten horrible news, then there’d be no hesitation.”

“What do you mean by that?” he asked.

Gene hesitated. “I would’ve done meself in.”

“Oh...God,” Sam sighed, tears falling down his cheeks.

“Papa…” Ruthie repeated, her voice shaking.

Gene went to her and pulled her onto his lap as he sat on the sofa again.

“I’m so sorry, Mousey-girl,” he whispered.

Sam wiped his wet eyes. “Guv, why did you never tell me?”

“Because you were dealing with your own dreams, Sam.”

“But, love, we could have started working through all this _sooner_ if we---”

Holly leaned forward in her chair and folded her hands. “Sam, it’s alright. You’re here _now_. Please.” She motioned for him to sit on the sofa. “Mr. Hunt.”

“Call me Gene,” he told her.

Holly nodded and smiled. “Gene, thank you for opening up like that. I know you care about your family and I’m sure, in your line of work, you have to be guarded with your emotions.”

Sam and Gene both laughed softly.

“Our work can get quite emotional, Holly,” Sam informed her.

Ruthie set Bertram on the sofa and put her arms around her papa’s neck and he patted her back as he rocked her.

Holly continued, “Well, this is why we have these types of sessions, to talk about the emotions we’re either feeling or trying to repress. Gene, I know that it hurts you to see your loved ones scarred by trauma. Everything that’s happened has brought severe change to your lives, but it’s possible to heal. You’ll never forget what happened, but you all _can_ heal and be a family again.”

Sam linked his arm with Gene’s and rested his head on his shoulder.

Ruthie pulled away from Gene’s neck and looked at them. “Please don’t shout anymore,” she said. “It scares me.”

“We won’t, sweetpea, we promise,” Sam said.

Ruthie looked at Gene. “Promise, baby,” he concurred.

“Miss Holly?” Ruthie asked.

Holly acknowledged her. “Yes, dear?”

“I have something to say to Papa.”

“Go ahead, love.”

She sniffed. “Well, Daddy told me to be brave, but I wasn’t all the way brave.”

Gene nodded. “That’s okay, Ruthie. I know it was scary for you and Daddy.”

“I was scared for you, too, though” she admitted. “I wanted to go home to make sure you were okay. I didn’t want to tell Daddy because I wanted to be brave for him. And because I knew you would be proud of me, too, for being brave.”

“You were _very_ brave, Mouse,” Gene said.

She nodded. “And so are you, which is why you shouldn’t think about that bad thing you wanted to do while we were gone.”

Gene brought her to him again, hugging her tightly. “Thank you, my love,” he whispered. “I won’t think about the bad thing anymore. I promise to never, ever again.”

“I know you won't, Papa,” Ruthie said, pulling away and looking at him. “Do you know how I know?”

Gene gave her a grin. “No, how?”

“Because you’re the Gene Genie.”

They laughed and Gene kissed her cheek. “That’s my girl.”

\----------

Gene was not as talkative during their tea later that night, but Sam could tell that he was holding back tears. When Gene came back in after his evening cigarette, he saw his wet cheeks before he could wipe them clean.

He didn’t raise his eyes as he went to the cupboard where he kept the gummy bears.

“Guv,” Sam said, “are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Gene answered, his voice deep.

Sam approached him as he opened the bag of gummies and put out his hand with a grin.

“None for you, my lad,” Gene scolded.

Sam huffed. “Why not?”

“You didn’t clean your plate.”

Sam saw Gene’s grin and replied, “I got full.”

“Then you’re too full for gummy bears.”

Sam pressed his lips against Gene’s cheek, but instead of a kiss, he received a playful threat. “Give me some bears, you twat.”

Gene couldn’t stop his laugh and he put a few sweets in Sam’s hand.

Ruthie entered the kitchen and pushed her stool up to the counter.

Gene looked at her as she climbed up it. “May I help you, miss?”

“It’s time for gummy bears,” she stated.

“I know. That’s why we’re eating some.”

“I get some, too."

“Do you, now?”

“Papa, please?” 

“Guv, stop teasing her,” Sam giggled.

Gene gave her the usual eight gummies and watched as she ate them one at a time.

He pursed his lips when his eyes started to burn again, and he leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

Ruthie paused in her snack and looked at him with curious eyes. “Papa? Are you okay?”

Gene nodded and turned away his gaze, closing the bag of sweets and putting them back in the cupboard. “Yeah, baby,” he muttered. “I’ll go and start your bath.”

He walked out of the kitchen and Ruthie sighed. “He’s still sad, Daddy.”

Sam pulled the ribbons gently from her hair to undo her pigtails. “I know, love,” he said. “Today was hard for him. It will get easier.”

“Will he come back with us again?” she asked.

“I’m sure he will,” he replied, although a part of him had some doubt.

At bedtime, Sam laid in bed and listened to the sink tap in their bathroom, the door left slightly ajar. He pulled the duvet to his chest when he heard the click of the bathroom light, and the mattress shifted as Gene sat on the edge and took off his vest.

Sam didn’t say anything, but turned away onto his side.

The mattress shifted again and Gene’s arm slid around his waist and pulled him closer. Sam moaned when he felt his lips press against the nape of his neck.

“Guv?” he whispered, rolling onto his back.

Gene rested his head on Sam’s chest and his breath hitched as his tears fell.

“Oh...love,” Sam said, stroking his hair. “Shh, it’s alright.”

Gene squeezed him. “God,” he said, his voice straining. “I want it to be.” He took a deep breath and tried to keep the moan from escaping his lips, but it came as hid his face in the crook of Sam’s neck.

Sam’s eyes began to sting with tears. He had only seen Gene cry once, and that was at their wedding, with tears of joy. He had never seen him break down like this, though, gripping desperately as he sobbed.

“God,” Gene groaned, “look at me…”

“It’s okay, darling,” Sam assured him, stroking his arm.

“Christ, Sammy...just hearing our baby talk like that today…broke me heart. I was so angry. What she went through...she’s so bloody young. I don’t know what to do.”

He kissed Gene’s hand. “Keep coming with us, Guv. Please? I know it was hard today, but Ruthie really wants you there. And so do I. Please.”

Gene lifted his head and looked into Sam’s eyes. “I love you,” he said.

Sam smiled as a tear fell down his cheek. “I love you, too.”

“I don’t say that enough to you. I will more often, I promise.”

“Oh, Guv.”

“Are we okay, Sammy?”

“Yes, of course.”

“I acted like such a monster to Ruthie, didn’t I?”

“What are you on about?”

“About the kitten and, you're right, I _was_ trying in denial about her...about you.” He sniffed and wiped his eyes. “I just hope she doesn’t think I don’t love her.”

“Gene, come on, now.”

“I love my girl very much. Jesus, I’ve been horrible!” His breath hitched again and he wept as he rolled onto his back, covering his eyes with his hand.

Sam’s tears fell as he sat up and moved Gene’s hand. “She knows you love her, darling.”

“I’m just like me father,” Gene moaned.

“Stop that now,” Sam said, firmly, taking his hand and kissing it. “You are _nothing_ like him. You are a wonderful papa, and I’m so happy I married you.” He caressed Gene’s chest. “We’re just in a bad patch right now, but we’re getting help and it’ll take time.”

He lay beside him again and stroked his wet cheek. Gene turned to look at him and gave him a small grin. He turned onto his side to face him and kissed his wrist, but then looked to the end of the bed. “You feel that?” he asked.

Sam turned to their door that was left ajar. “What?”

“Felt like someone was pulling on the duvet.”

“Ruthie?” Sam looked around to see if Ruthie had come in.

“No, she’s out like a light,” Gene said.

“Oh, wait I felt it that time,” Sam told him.

They looked to the foot of the bed and saw the end of the duvet being tugged, as if something was climbing up it.

“What the hell?” Gene whispered.

They heard a squeal and sat up, and they laughed as Ruthie’s new kitten climbed over the edge and hopped toward them.

“You sneaky little runt,” Gene scolded as Sam picked her up and held her against his chest.

He smiled and scratched her head. “It’s bedtime, little girl,” he said.

“Little sneak, more like,” Gene repeated as he put on his dressing gown.

“Even _you_ have to admit that she’s a sweet kitten, Guv.”

“Yeah, she’s sweet alright. Like a hernia.”

Sam rolled his eyes as he handed Daisy Bell to him.

The kitten mewed as Gene went into Ruthie’s bedroom. He shushed her as he set her back into the ushanka hat that was still in her shoe box bed, and then he moved into the hallway. He turned when he heard her meow again and she trotted up to him.

“You have your own bed,” Gene whispered and gently pushed her with his toes. “Go on, now.”

Daisy Bell sat on her hind legs and batted at Gene’s toes, thinking he wanted to play.

“No, you little fur ball,” he scolded as he picked her up again. “It’s bedtime.”

Instead of putting her in the shoe box, he set her on the end of Ruthie’s bed and watched.

Daisy Bell looked around the room, the night light by Ruthie’s door illuminating her green eyes, and she jumped over the fluffy mounds of Ruthie’s blanket and settled onto one of her pillows where she curled into a ball and yawned.

Ruthie was asleep on her back, her mouth open as she snored.

Gene smiled. She really did take after him.

He noticed that Bertram was on the floor and he picked him up and placed him at Ruthie’s side. Her arm immediately curled around him and clutched him to her chest.

Gene knelt beside the bed and pressed a kiss against her forehead. “My sweet girl,” he whispered. “My little mouse.” He stroked her blonde bangs. “I’ll never let anything bad happen to you again.”

He stood and went to the door, closing it just a bit to let in light from the hallway. “Good night, girls.”


	4. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Tyler-Hunt family slowly heals.

**One month later**

Sam stood over the dinner table flipping through the cookbook in front of him. He found the roast chicken recipe he was searching for and jotted down its necessities in his pocket notepad. 

“Let’s see here,” he mumbled to himself. “We’ll need more butter...we’ve got onions, need carrots...do we have kosher salt?”

He pivoted away from the table and opened the spice cupboard. “Nope, plain table salt. Okay, Kosher salt, we need. What can we do for veg?”

“All set, my better half?” Gene asked as he entered the kitchen putting on his black coat.

“Not quite,” Sam replied, nibbling the end of his pen. “What do you want for sides for Sunday supper?”

Gene shrugged. “I don’t know. Can’t go wrong with spuds.”

“We always do potatoes,” Sam groaned. “Oh! I could perhaps roast yams. Steam some greens. Yeah...yeah.” He jotted more into his notepad until he raised his head again. “Oh, wait a tick.”

“What is it?” 

Sam turned and rushed into the kitchen again, bending down to open one of the bottom cupboards. “Oh, bugger!”

“My God,  _ what _ ?”

“ _ Why _ don’t we have a deep roasting pan?” 

“You expect me to answer that?” Gene said. “I’m never allowed in the bloody kitchen.”

Sam sighed and returned to the table, bending over the edge to put his elbows on it, and scribbled in his notepad again.

Gene took the opportunity to step closer and put his whole hand on one of his husband’s arse cheeks.

The scribbling sound of Sam’s pen stopped and he clicked his tongue. “Having fun back there?”

“Be more fun if your trousers weren’t in the way.”

Sam shook his head. “What do you want for pudding?”

“You.”

He rolled his eyes and flipped to another recipe he had marked. “I could make these blueberry turnovers.”

“I could make a Sam turnover.”

“Good Lord…” He heard the shifting of clothing and knew Gene was removing his coat. “If you want this chicken tomorrow, we’ll have to go to the shoppes  _ now _ .” 

He straightened and turned to face him and Gene instantly pressed his lips against his with a growl.

“I want  _ you _ ... **_now_ ** .”

Sam dropped his pen and notepad and put his arms around him, squeezing him closer as they continued to kiss.

He lightly gasped as he felt himself being lifted from the floor and made to sit on the dinner table. Gene reached behind him and shoved the cookbook off the table, and Sam moaned aloud as Gene bit his neck.

“Oh…Gene!” he exclaimed and suddenly he was on his back on the table, Gene’s teeth nipping at his throat as a gloved hand found its way under Sam’s shirt. “Oh...oh, God. No, no stop it! The butcher closes at five!”

“We’ll go tomorrow,” Gene purred, unzipping Sam’s trousers. He pulled them down just a bit before Sam grabbed his waistband.

“Tomorrow is Sunday and they’re shut on Sundays,” Sam reminded him, lifting his head up to look at him, but Gene sucked on his hip bone and his head fell against the table again. 

“Ugh…” Sam groaned. “Darling, please...we can do this later.” He was tugging at Gene’s hair, but he wasn’t pulling him away. “We’ve got to get going before the girls get back from the library.”

“Just a quick one,” Gene whispered, moving from his hips and back to his neck. “Right here.”

“We are  _ not _ doing it on the table.”

“Why?”

“Because we eat here!  _ Really _ , Gene.” Sam managed to push him away and he slid off the table. He adjusted his trousers and shirt and then picked his notepad off the floor along with the cookbook. “Later, Guv. I promise,” he said, kissing him.

Gene gave him a dissatisfied frown, pouting his lip at him, but Sam smirked and playfully pinched his chin, making him smile.

\------------

“I can’t wait for that roast chicken,” Gene told Sam as they got into bed later that night. “I’m going to be smelling it in me dreams.”

Sam giggled. “You and your food,” he said. “You’re a bottomless pit.”

“It’s the way to me heart, love, you know that. In fact, I remember the first meal you cooked for me.”

Sam turned off his lamp and lay on his back. “You do? What was it, then?”

“It was a curry,” Gene regaled, as he lay on his stomach, turning his head to Sam. “Mm, I remember, it was just a bit spicy, not much.”

“I didn’t want to make it too spicy. I didn’t know your tolerance level.”

“It had potatoes, carrots, onion, broccoli. Jesus, it was heavenly. Juicy bits of chicken, lightly fried.”

“Guv?”

“Yeah.”

“That wasn’t chicken.”

“What you mean?” he asked. “I know my meats, Tyler, and  _ that _ was chicken. I remember.”

“It was far from meat, love.”

Gene frowned as he thought a moment and then his eyes grew wide. “Did you feed me tofu??”

Sam laughed, muffling the noise with his hand so as not to wake Ruthie. “I did!”

“You bloody...fed me---?”

“I didn’t force feed it to you,” Sam said, “you ate it. In fact, you ate a lot of it!” He put his face in his pillow and snorted. “Oh my, God. I thought you knew!”

“How am I supposed to know what tofu is like? I’ve never eaten it!”

“Well, one night in 1975, you did.”

Gene sighed as his husband’s laughter died down. “Don’t you dare tell anyone at the station.”

“Now, you’re just being ridiculous.”

“Is that chicken you got today  _ real _ chicken?”

Sam nodded as he giggled again. “Yes, my dear. We went into the butcher’s together and you watched me pay for it, didn’t you? Besides, I doubt Antonio has tofu in his shoppe.”

Gene shook his head. “You dirty bastard.”

“Gene Hunt, crack detective,” Sam teased, “can’t tell the difference between chicken and soy.”

His laughing ceased again when Gene suddenly climbed on top of him, and put his lips on his neck.

“Oh...” Sam sighed as he wrapped his arms around his waist. He caressed his lower back as his kisses slowed.

“You dirty,  _ dirty _ bastard,” Gene whispered in his ear.

Sam moaned and gently scratched his fingernails along his back. “You’re not really cross with me, are you?”

“Mm, no, I guess not.”

“Otherwise, you wouldn’t be so eager to finish what you started earlier.”

“ _ You _ started it, Tyler,” Gene pointed out. “Bending over the table, wiggling your arse.”

“I didn’t wiggle my arse.”

Gene smiled and kissed him. “I want you, Sammy,” he purred.

Sam stroked his neck. “I’m all yours,” he whispered.

“Yeah?”

He licked his lips and nodded. “Yeah, I want to.”

“Promise me something.”

“Anything, love.”

Gene put his hand on Sam’s forehead and stroked it with his thumb. “If you start to feel, you know...uncomfortable, you’ll tell me, yeah?”

Sam’s mouth opened, surprised at his request. “I...yes, of course.”

“Promise me, Sam.”

“I promise, I’ll tell you.”

“Because I’ll stop, no questions asked.”

Sam grinned and kissed him again. “Thank you.”

\---------

The next morning, Sam awoke in Gene’s arms with his head on his chest. He was snoring softly and the morning light was dimmed by the beige curtains in their window as it shone onto them.

Sam quietly slipped out of bed and put on his pajama bottoms and dressing gown before heading to Ruthie’s room.

He doesn’t remember her waking, so he peeked into her room and saw that she was still fast asleep.

Had Ruthie actually slept through the night? Sam wondered. He grinned at the prospect of Ruthie not having the nightmares, but he knew that it would take time before they were truly gone.

For now, he was grateful for Ruthie’s first night of respite from that dark place as she slept peacefully, her blonde hair disheveled on her pillow and her Bobby lion on his face by her side.

Daisy Bell was in her shoe box, sleeping comfortably, as well, and her fluffy orange bottom was sticking out of Gene’s ushanka cap as her face pressed into its wool lining.


End file.
